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Steaming second-class car on the way to Rome, the first time this trip; we've been sitting at 74.907 just S of some kind of cement works a bit out of Orte. Train quite crowded: I think every seat in this car is taken.
Up this morning at just before 7; during my sleep I was thinking about my potential book on the Flaminia, but slept well. Second day of this slight sore throat, though: no reason I can see for it, either. Did shopping before breakfast; lots of competition at the alimentari, chiacchiere, etc. so that all I had at home was about a pint of milk (and a curious drink, flavored with cedar, that turned out quite disappointing: merely some very slightly odd-flavored soda pop). Left the house at 0930 to be safe, for 1013 train: but the ticket window was open, there was no line, nor any problem with my abbonamento 168ML. A plain round trip to Rome is over 30 ML, so — as the railway woman pointed out — in six uses I've broken even. This first one I don't even know what I'll see in the city: I have my camera and lots of film, and I'm wearing long trou.a
At the station a tramezzino of indistinguishable stuff drowned in mayonnaise, as often; also a cup of hazelnut icecream. Little shopping list: antiseptic ointment, bathing suit, limoncello, another copy of the Flaminia Laziale book by the Zecca dello Stato, vitamin C; prolly a few other things. We're due to arrive at 12:40‑something and will surely be a few minutes late; the train is now tearing thru the Lazio towards Settebagni clearly trying to make up for lost time. My train back is at 1912.
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Gosh Rome is tiring. Hot, too: my first time in July — I'm still not sure why I advanced my usual fall stay, other than those sunflowers in Spoleto. Anyhow, this is definitely a killer, I'll try never to do Rome in the summer again.
Sitting at a small square green tableclothed table at 77a, v. Agostino de Pretis at five minutes to four, hot, exhausted, hungry, thirsty. Had 2 squares of very good pizza with green olives, a small bottle (50 cl) of fizzywater and a banana fruit shake (no icecream in it) — "frullato" is the word I learned today — and a pack of gummies with vitamin C in 'em: 12ML including the air-conditioning.
Cross and culverin: the "Créquy" monument against the belfry of St. Mary Major. |
After several inquiries, I was led to the Créquy monumentb — or to something, anyway, that more or less matches the general idea I had of it. The inscriptions were not helpful, neither the coats of arms. I took pictures, and will check with James next time I call. Whatever it is, is outside near the sacristy, in a little parking lot. Two workers were sitting on the steps of it, having lunch: I told them the story of it, since they were looking at me oddly. . . .
From there to S. Pudenziana, brief visit actually — the Roman house etc. not visitable: inagibile (water, cracks), but the young parish volunteer staffing the little table was extremely helpful and a mine of information: including, over my objections, making careful photocopies for me of the list of churches of Rome in the phone book, the idea being I can use it to call around for opening hours. In addition to a bunch of stuff I knew, some stuff I definitely didn't: like S. Paolo alla Regola having (on some days of the month) a visitable Roman-period underground, etc.
Now I've only walked about twelve blocks after leaving the train station (where there is an Internet connection service for the public in the basement; in addition, James's internet caffé in or near the v. Marsala exit, although I didn't really look for it so this may not be true): but jeepers it's hot.
The entrance hall at
Termini train station,
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Giubileo has resulted in a much more attractive and somehow roomier train station; gypsies being very pushy two blocks away down the v. Cavour, I had to be very nasty to get rid of them. A security cordon around St. Mary Major: metal barriers and you enter thru a checkpoint; knots of police there, inside the church, and across the via Liberiana, watching: didn't notice them armed.
So — restored, but dreading the heat the instant I step out again (had an additional aranciata amara), will prolly go peer at S. Carlino — I've never been inside — maybe Sant' Andrea, and then that'll prolly be it, time to catch my train. Gosh it's hot.
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It's still hot; the difference is that I'm sitting down on my train, Binario 2 at Termini, about 5 minutes before departure. Actually it's hotter in here, despite open windows, than it was during my post-banana-shake prowl of churches.
S. Carlino in fact closed, with a slightly more eccentric schedule: morning, then closes for lunch, then opens for one hour, 3 to 4 P.M. Two young Frenchwomen standing there much disappointed that their new guidebook had the wrong hours; I didn't make any new friends, I'm sure, but I told 'em the only thing that changed as often as Rome opening hours was French currency —
Quattro Fontane:
personification of the river Arno. |
S. Susanna: the coffered ceiling of the nave. |
In the sacristy, a fresco, found a few years ago in 7000 pieces in an 8c tomb: Madonna and Child, 2 female saints, evangelists with bits of their respective gospels. My guess is in fact much earlier than 8c, maybe 6c even: elegant courtly Byzantine style, the Virgin holding a handkerchief like a ranking lady of the time — John's text read "In principio erat berbum, et berbum erat aput Deum"; it's extraordinary how people don't look at what's in front of us: the nun showing the thing when I said, look at the phonetic spelling, this guy had never actually read the gospel, but only heard it read to him: berbum with a b — said yes that's Latin, verbum; it took me maybe a minute to get her to see the nonstandard spelling; it was like Who's on First for a while. (No pics, or at least I didn't ask; as for the church, I'm going to have to do a tripod tour.)
The Acqua Felice — drank a lot of it, my Québeck friend left me here for her nunnery, telling me to be happy (at first she'd misread me as a cynic!): certainly for a moment, the best water in Rome splashing all over me, I was; three times, actually, as I revolved around the largo S. Susanna clicking at things, and drinking more water.
S. Bernardo alle Terme is surprisingly small and bland, although the tombstones are interesting: the dome is the star, of course. S. Maria alla Vittoria had a rosary recitation, attended by about 15 people; having seen which I scurried out: didn't see S. Teresa, who is in a side chapel I think.
Train station, and here I am coursing thru N Lazio (just passed 72.877) somewhere around Gallese — train really zooming, hope it keeps up: if on schedule I'll still be home at a few minutes past ten.
a This apparent non sequitur can serve in fact as a useful to the novice visitor to Rome. If you plan on seeing churches, you should not wear shorts: you may be stopped and prevented from entering. Hence the long trousers here.
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b This obscure historical memento has a very interesting story behind it: a bit of street rioting and murder, a run-in between a Pope and a king of France, and differing opinions to this day, depending on your nationality. It has nothing directly to do with the Créquy family, and I should have referred to it as the Anisson monument, but my introduction to it was via the Souvenirs of the Marquise de Créquy, and that's the way I think of it, with some justification as you will see on my page on it.
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c Not any more. The American national church in Rome is now, since 2017, S. Patrizio.
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Page updated: 20 Oct 23